Path To Retaliation (Fighter's Den, #2)

Chapter 30 - Cameron

Life is comprised of moments.

Looking back, you'll never recall life as one huge event that you lived through. You'll recall all the bits and pieces that made you who you are today and remind you of how you got here. Not all of these moments will be good or even deserved, but necessary nonetheless. Because even the bad teaches you character and that's what I always remind myself when I find myself struggling.

It's what I'm trying to remind myself now but coming up short. I tell myself that down the road I'll realize why things led to this moment the way they did but it's no use. I can feel sheer misery and shock consuming me as I read the words for probably the hundredth time.

"Your mother is dead. She OD'd. Should have listened to me when I reached out. — H."

I look at the date on the email again as if it's going to change because I'm silently willing it to. No such luck. It was sent back in June. It's October now.

My mother has been dead for three months and I had no idea.

That nauseous feeling that's been building up since the moment I opened that email slams into me full force and I run to the bathroom, barely opening the lid of the toilet seat before I hurl into it. Acid burns my throat as I throw up so violently I'm convinced I might see one of my organs come out of me. I cough and try to get everything out of my system now because the nausea still hasn't gone away. Not in the least.

"Cameron!" I hear Avery's frantic voice call out to me. I want to answer her but as soon as I try to, more vomit projects out of me. My hands are shaking so hard it's next to impossible trying to keep myself upright while I wait for this to pass.

"Oh my God." I faintly register a cool hand on my back and my body hones into the sensation, clinging on to it and the relief it brings. "You're burning up. Here."

The sound of the shower being turned on greets my ears but it's more background noise than anything. My pulse is thumping in my ears and everything around me sounds muffled. Sweat drips from my forehead and into the toilet bowl as I breathe hard, thinking that at least the throwing up is over. I try to reach up to flush but Avery does it for me then uses a wet towel to wipe my mouth. Her dainty arms wrap around my underarms and she helps me pick myself off the floor so we can limp to the sink. There's already a toothbrush with some toothpaste on it and she gently grabs my jaw to open up my mouth and starts brushing my teeth for me. I move to do it myself but she ushers my hands away and goes about finishing the task. After a couple of minutes she motions for me to spit and I comply, already feeling a little bit better from the minty taste in my mouth.

"Thank you." I tell her hoarsely. My voice sounds scratched up from all the vomiting.

"Take your clothes off." She tells me softly, already reaching for the hem of my t-shirt and dragging it up over my head.

Any other time I would have made a dirty joke or remark but all I can do is what she tells me to, not in the headspace to do anything else. I take care of my jeans and underwear and she takes them from me, disposing the pile in a laundry hamper. She gives myback a gentle shove towards the shower and I take her cue, stepping in under the streaming water which is freezing but feels good as hell on my hot skin. I bow my head and allow the water to cool me off and it clears some of the steam fogging up my head too.

What would have happened if I didn't check my email today? If I didn't check it at all?

I'd just gotten home from training when I remembered that I still had my M of M email active after seeing Avery checking through her work mail. Not wanting to alarm her, I waited until she was done and retreated into our room to do her hourly yoga session before logging on with the intention of deactivating it. I didn't want to take any chances on Hannah finding us. I had several unread emails from her, which was no surprise, and I didn't even bat an eye at them except for the one about my mother. The email was titled CYNTHIA, my mother's name, and I couldn't ignore it. Hannah knew I wouldn't have because in some ways, she did know and understand me as a person. Then I'd opened the email and my whole world came crashing down on me. Things were made even worse when I put two and two together and realized the date she sent the email was about a week before she payed a visit to my old house — the day Nate and I bumped into her and I immediately moved the next day. I remember Nate telling me Hannah said she had news about my mother but I'd thought she was just baiting me.